Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal – Yom Hashoah 5782

Posted on by Lauren Dube

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

Yom Hashoah 5782
Let Me Share with You!

By Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

"Never Again!" This is the battle cry; the clarion call of our people when discussing the Shoah, the Holocaust. "Never Again!" But what does that mean? When I was growing up, my father used to say "Never Again" when discussing the Holocaust. He would often add that the educational center and museum in Israel, Yad VaShem, meant, "Never Again." It doesn't. Now I share this with you not to expose my father's lack of knowledge. He was the smartest person I've even known. I remember him connecting the phrase "Never Again" to the museum in Jerusalem because my older sister, who had Hebrew fluency would challenge him on it. Yad VaShem literally means, "Hand and Name." Unfortunately, my sister's rebuttal didn't help much. I liked the definition of Yad VaShem better when my father translated it. "Never Again" better captures the work that the Yad VaShem museum does by educating, honoring and advocating for the victims, survivors, and heroes of the Shoah.

The name, "Yad VaShem," is actually an expression in the book of Isaiah (56:5)

I will give them, in My House
And within My walls,
A monument and a name (Yad VaShem)
Better than sons or daughters.
I will give them an everlasting name
Which shall not perish.

The phrase is fitting although, in context, there is a lot to unpack. However, we will have to save the exploration of this Biblical verse and its application here for another Torah commentary. What is clear, is that it doesn't mean "Never Again." In defense of my father, the phrase "Never Again" was imbued in all the work of educating and advocating for the victims of the Holocaust. In that way, I am on board. Never should such horror happen again. Never should anybody seek the oppression, subjugation, and annihilation of another people. Never again should such darkness befall our world. I am in full support of such a sentiment. And, if I may appropriate a phrase from our sacred Passover narrative, Dayenu! If the world just consisted of me and those who seek my words and example for guidance, "Never Again" would be enough.

But it's not. It's not enough. It isn't an expression that lives in the hearts and minds of enough people. Since the horrors of the Shoah, there have been countless efforts by individuals, peoples, and governments to continue the heinous crimes committed by the Nazis, their collaborators, benefactors, and bystanders. And if we expand these horrific intentions to the oppression and murder of other people (non-Jews), the number grows exponentially. "Never Again" is a battle cry for a never-ending cosmic war between the forces of light against the insidious nature of darkness. By itself, "Never Again" feels destined to never being achieved.

I wonder if there are some new phrases that we might begin to share with the world. As the final eyewitnesses to the Shoah pass away, I wonder if there is a new phrase that might need to be shared which can begin to soften hearts and change minds.

This past weekend, we were honored and blessed by the presence of Mr. Brendan Murphy, professor of history at the Marist school. Mr. Murphy, a devout Catholic, is a hero of the Jewish people and of all people. During Mr. Murphy's presentation, he shared the ethic that brought him to dedicate his life to the work of Holocaust education and advocacy. At the end of his sermon, he talked about a remarkable statue recasting the ancient depictions of Ecclesia and Synagoga (For more on his presentation, watch it here).

The two statues depict Ecclesia, who represents the Christian Church and Synagoga, who represented Judaism, seated with each other, both crowned, sharing each other's sacred texts with one another. This is not the way that Ecclesia and Synagoga have been paired throughout our long difficult history with our Christian brothers and sisters. This sculpture now lives on the campus of the Marist school here in Atlanta because of the courageous work of Mr. Murphy. I wonder if this image might be sharing a new expression that we can share with the world moving forward, an additional clarion call for the sacred work of Holocaust education and advocacy – "Let me share with you."

Let me share with you our story
Let me share with you our pain!
Let me share with you our journey!
Let me share with you our hope!

Maybe we can even shorten it to 'Share with me!" inviting those who might be germinating ill will to open and explore the true root of their own pain.

As the last of the Holocaust survivors leave our earth, they entrust with us their souls, their memories, their struggles, and their hope. What we do with precious items will say everything about who we are. It is not a burden but a privilege. To dedicate one's life to such a cause is to sit in the Holy of Holies and speak face to face with God.

May Yom HaShoah open our hearts and make firm our resolve to do the holy work ahead.

MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman – The Two New Moons

Posted on by Lauren Dube

MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman

The Two New Moons

By Rabbi Arnold Goodman

Each of the five biblical festivals: Pesach, Shavuot, Rosh HaShanah, Yom Kippur and Succot. is dated according to the phases of the moon but only Pesach and Succot  are celebrated on the full moon. Under a full moon our liberated ancestors exited from Eypt, and under a full moon we will soon gather at our Seder tables to celebrate this cardinal event in our history thereby reaffirming the challenge and the joy of being part of our historic community.

The Haggadah reminds us that in every generation there were those who sought to harm us, but by the grace of God we continue to survive.  Yet as we recount the story of our liberation and our persistent survival, we do take note of the suffering of other peoples and communities, and this year focus will be on the horrors being perpetrated in Ukraine. Pesach's central message, however, reaffirms and celebrates our Jewish identity.

Succot, the other full moon festival, celebrates universalism. The Rabbis noted that during the seven-day festival a total of seventy bullocks were sacrificed in the Temple as a prayer for all humanity. (In the Rabbinic worldview there were but seventy nations in addition to ours.) It was on the following one-day festival (Shemini Atzeret) that only one bullock was sacrificed on our own behalf. We rightly celebrate our uniqueness, but we are never to lose sight that we are part of humanity; on Succot we pray that all humankind will be blessed with God's beneficence.

The two full moons complement one another. Even, as on Succot, when we recognize God's concern for all humankind, there are instances when we also celebrate our uniqueness and recall the Exodus from Egypt, so, too, on Pesach as we celebrate our deliverance from slavery, we reaffirm, through appropriate readings and discussions, our concern for the welfare of all humanity. May we continue to celebrate our Jewishness even as we embrace and are embraced by all with whom we share the Succah of God's blessings.

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal – Pesach 5782

Posted on by Lauren Dube

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

Biblical Readings for Pesach 5782
The Torah of Passover

By Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

The eight days of Passover are replete with Torah readings. Each day of this special holiday we have a Torah reading to celebrate, elevate, and help create a sense of holiness for each day of this festival of freedom. This is not completely unusual. Sukkot and Hanukah, both eight days long, have a Torah reading for each of the eight days. However, Passover is different. Whereas Sukkot and Hanukah's Torah readings each day are structured with a lot of repetition, reading from the same Torah portion for most of the days, the Passover readings for each of the day pull from all over the Torah. By looking at these eight disperse Passover Torah reading, one for each day, I hope to uncover an important message that our sages are trying to communicate to us through the placement of these each Torah readings, sending us a text message over many generations.

 

Saturday, April 16 – Passover Day 1
Torah Reading: Exodus 12:21-51 (Parshat Bo)
This Torah reading for the first day of Passover lays out the important steps that the Israelites needed to do in preparation of their freedom. This Parsha recalls the painting of blood upon the door post to separate the houses of the Israelites from those of the Egyptians. The text also talks about the haste taken to bake bread that has become the iconic unleavened bread that we eat throughout Passover. Our sidra for this first day ends with sharing the many people included among the Israelites who can partake in the pascal lamb offering.

 

Sunday, April 17 – Passover Day 2
Torah Reading: Leviticus 22:26-23:44 (Parshat Emor)
Chapter 23 of Leviticus lists the holidays that the Israelites are to observe. Starting with Shabbat, moving through the High Holidays and mentioning the three-pilgrimage festival, this chapter touches on the iconic elements or rituals of these holy days. Interestingly, although there plenty of pasukim (sentences) in Leviticus, chapter 23 to divide the chapter into separate aliyot for the public reading, this Torah reading begins in Chapter 26, prohibiting the slaughter of a calf on the same day as its mother. One can surmise that this prohibition recognizes the emotional distress that might be inflicted upon the animal by such trauma.

 

Monday, April 18 – Passover Day 3 (Chol HaMoed Day 1)
Torah Reading: Exodus 13:1-16 (Parshat Bo)
By the third day of Passover, the first day of Hol HaMoed (literally, the ordinary days of a festival) we are returning to the book of Exodus, to the instruction given to the Israelites before they left Egypt. This section commands the people that upon entering the land, they shall consecrate their first born to the service of God. It also institutes a spring holiday of unleavened bread during which we will teach our children about our freedom. Woven into this text is also an introduction to the signs of the covenant that we will put upon our arms and between our eyes, what would eventually become tefillin (phylacteries).

 

Tuesday, April 19 – Passover Day 4 (Chol HaMoed Day 2)
T-rah Reading: Exodus 22:24-23:19 (Parshat Mishpatim)
On the fourth day of Passover, we review a collection of laws which speak about ethical behavior spanning from a prohibition against usury to the commandment of returning to your enemy their lost property. We get a quick description of the Shemita year (7th year of rest for the land; we just happen to be in the Shemita right now) and finally the Torah reading ends with a reminder about observing the three pilgrimage festivals at their appointed time.

 

Wednesday, April 20th – Passover Day 5 (Chol HaMoed Day 3)
Torah Reading: Exodus 34:1-26 (Parshat Ki Tissa)
By the fifth day of Passover, we find ourselves reading a very special section of Torah (all sections of Torah are special, but you know what I mean): The 13 attributes of God. Exodus, chapter 34 begins with the instruction to Moses to carve a second set of tablets, like the first that were broken. Then, God calls out the 13 divine attributes which are recited as part of the service on Holidays and High Holidays. The instruction turns to fidelity, imploring the people not to follow the idolatry ways of the inhabitants of the land they will soon possess. There is a mention of the Feast of Unleavened bread, what we know as Passover, with a reminder that the first of every womb belongs to God and therefore must be redeemed. The reading concludes by mentioning the holidays of Shabbat and Shavuot.

 

Thursday, April 21 – Passover Day 6 (Chol HaMoed Day 4)
Torah Reading: Numbers 9:1-14 (Parshat Behaalotecha)
On the sixth day of Passover, our reading focuses on situations where a person might not be in a state of purity by the 15th of Nissan, case in point is when one encounters a dead body, and therefore can't participate in the Passover Seder at its requisite time. Therefore, this section of Torah establishes a little-known backup holiday called Pesach Sheni, the second Passover, where Jews and strangers within the Jewish community can observe the holiday of Passover later once purified.

 

Friday, April 22 – Passover Day 7
T-rah Reading: Exodus 13:17-15:26 (Parshat Beshallach)
The seventh day of Passover is the concluding day of the holiday (chag) and has an elevation of sanctity from the previous four days of Hol HaMoed. On this day, tradition recalls the actual exodus from Egypt. Whereas the first day of Passover reading is spent in preparation from the Israelite's departure, it is believed that on this seventh day, the people left. Therefore, our reading is known as the Song at the Sea, the joyful celebration that Miriam and Moses led for the people after the waters of the Reed Sea closed upon Pharoah and his army.

 

Saturday, April 23 – Passover Day 8
Torah Reading: Deuteronomy 14:22-16:17 (Parshat Reeh)
This final day of Passover, the eighth day is only observed in the diaspora (outside the land of Israel). For this reading, we travel deep into the book of Deuteronomy, our first exploration into this book during this holiday. Our reading begins with instructions concerning the tithes, a setting aside of a tenth of one's bounty for God and the service of the Temple in Jerusalem. Recognizing that depending on the size of one's farm or flock, a tenth could be a burdensome amount to haul up to the Temple in Jerusalem, an allowance to liquidate or assess the value of these assets and bring the amount to the Temple mount is proscribed. We are reminded to care for the Levite communities as they don't have an inheritance of the land, since their focus is on Temple service. The reading delves deeper into the observance of the Shemita year which was also mentioned in our text read on the fourth day of Passover. The reading concludes with another reminder to celebrate the three pilgrimage festivals, Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot while also expanding the community of celebrants to include servants, slaves, and strangers.

 

—

 

That is a lot of Torah. The question I am interested in asking is, "What is the common thread in all of these? "What textual, spiritual Journey are we being led on through the readings of these various texts?" As always, there are many layers that we get the pleasure of uncovering each year. For me this year, this jaunt through scripture is highlighting the practice element of a "spiritual practice." We weren't brought out of Egypt to do whatever we want. We were brought out of Egypt, under servitude to Pharoah in order to serve God. To be of service takes refining. To be good at anything takes practice.

 

Spiritual practice is akin to being a musician. The only difference is that a musician can limit their playing to moments when they have their instrument in their hand. The instrument of spiritual practice is life, which is hard to put back in its case. Just like playing a musical instrument, the more one practices the better they sound, the more comfortable they feel with it in their hands, the more agile they might be when performing with others. A true musician also is good at listening to others playing around them, knowing when to step forward and solo or step back and keep the rhythm.

 

The Torah reading for Passover helps to frame out freedom as an opportunity to develop a spiritual practice. Freedom isn't free, it takes practice.

 

Chag Sameach!

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal – Parshat Metzora

Posted on by Lauren Dube

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

Parshat Metzora
Leviticus 14:1-15:33
Seeing the Metzora

By Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

There is an unusual sentence at the beginning of this week's sidra which is drawing my attention. In Leviticus Chapter 14, we learn about the encounter of the metzora, a person with a scaly skin condition which has required quarantine outside the encampment of Israel, with the priest who is acting as the clinician. Our parsha opens at the end of the quarantine period and after healing has occurred. We are told that the Cohen goes out of the camp to examine the individual in question. The Torah makes some assumptions about this person's condition. The text begins by telling us,

זֹאת תִּהְיֶה תּוֹרַת הַמְּצֹרָע בְּיוֹם טָהֳרָתוֹ וְהוּבָא אֶל־הַכֹּהֵן:

"This is the Torah (lit: teaching) of the metzora in the day of their purification, and when they are brought to the Cohen" (Leviticus 14:2).

Interestingly, the next verse states that this 'teaching of the metzora's purification' is predicated on the Priest seeing that healing has occurred. I find it noteworthy to point out that if this was truly the day of their purification, wouldn't the examination (the "seeing") already have taken place? Meaning, if the priest didn't find the infection to have cleared then presumably the metzora would have returned to quarantine. More important is the discrepancy between verse 2 and verse 3:

וְיָצָא הַכֹּהֵן אֶל־מִחוּץ לַמַּחֲנֶה וְרָאָה הַכֹּהֵן וְהִנֵּה נִרְפָּא נֶגַע־הַצָּרַעַת מִן־הַצָּרוּעַ:

"The Cohen goes outside the encampment and the Cohen sees and behold, the one who is afflicted with the infection was healed from the infection" (Leviticus 14:3).

In verse 2 it states that the metzora is brought to the Cohen and in Verse 3 is appears that the Cohen goes to the metzora who has been waiting outside the camp. Finally, we get to the sentence that I am branding unusual:

וְצִוָּה הַכֹּהֵן וְלָקַח לַמִּטַּהֵר

"And the Cohen commanded and he took for the one to be purified" (Leviticus 14:4).

What am I finding unusual about this sentence structure? Firstly, although we have learned a lot about the work of the Cohen, I don't remember the Cohen "commanding." The term "tziva" (related to the word, Mitzvah) is usually reserve for God. However, it appears that the Cohen is not only being instructive he is doing so aggressively, "the Cohen commands." Next, it isn't clear what the Cohen is commanding or who the Cohen is commanding. The inclusion of the letter "vav" with the next word "lekakh – and he took," seems to indicate what the Cohen did next, not necessarily what the Cohen commanded others to do. And to drive this point even further, the patient's new title, "the one to be purified," has the prefix letter of lamed which means "for," indicating that the birds which will be offered later in the verse are to be taken "for" the one who is to be purified, not from. This is all to say that it remains unclear who is being commanded and what exactly that commandment is in this case.

The remainder of the verse and subsequent verses share ritual instructions which are familiar to the many chapters and instructions that have preceded this verse throughout the book of Leviticus. So why and what is the priest commanding? I imagine that the priest must speak boldly and commend others on behalf of the exiled because others might be hesitant to let them back in. The Torah states that the metzora is to be brought to the Cohen but eventually, the Cohen needed to get up and go out to the metzora. Why wasn't the metzora brought to the Cohen as instructed by the Torah? Was there nobody willing to escort the metzora to the Cohen? Have the barriers of the community become so impenetrable that the Cohen needed to go out because the metzora couldn't gain access? Additionally, it's telling that the Cohen changes the person's title from metzora (afflicted one) to metaheir (purified one).

Since I am not a dermatologist, these verses speak to my spiritual life slightly differently, but the challenges are still the same. As one of the leaders of our community, I am ever mindful of those who have been "sent out" of the community and the work that needs to be done to bring them back in. Sometime the exile is specific to an individual – a death, a divorce, an unfortunate legal misstep, a political disagreement. For those cases, time often will help fade away the community's recollection and bias allowing those individuals clearer passage back into community. Other times, the reason or exile is more insidious and is steeped in cultural bias, fear, and bigotry – homosexuality, non-binary, and transgender people, Jews of color, intermarried, people who convert, to name a few. These situations require us to boldly state what these individuals mean to us as a community – they are Jews and we must embrace and bring them into our community. The metzora in these cases afflicts the eyes and mind of those keeping them out and not as a stain on those being kept outside the camp. It's important that we do as our Cohanim did, venture outside the camp, see them, really see them, and call them by a new name, one that is loving, caring and humanizing.

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal – Parshat Tazriah

Posted on by Lauren Dube

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

Parshat Tazriah
Leviticus 12:1-13:59
The Consciousness of Moral Freedom

By Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

Our sidra this week begins with the ritual impurity of childbirth. It's hard not to be thrown off by the thought of something so amazing as the birth of a child causing a spiritual state that our tradition would call, "impure." Of course, ritual impurity doesn't mean dirty or bad–it's simply one of several spiritual states that we navigate as human beings. My apologies notwithstanding, it's a challenging place to start our weekly discussion. Rabbi Sampson Raphael Hirsch begins his commentary on Chapter 12 of Leviticus with a discussion about impurity. Unlike last week's chapter which denotes impurity which might happen if a person consumes a non-kosher animal, an act that people do to themselves, this week's chapter discusses spiritual actions which happen to a person, childbirth being one of them.

Rabbi Hirsch uses a phrase a few times in discussing these acts that cause ritual impurity. He describes them as a condition that jeopardizes "the consciousness of moral freedom." Now, to be honest, I am not fully grasping what Rabbi Hirsch means when he is talking about consciousness of moral freedom. However, the phrase, especially in this context, really grabbed me. There are many levels of blessings and stress with having children. When I talk about stress here, I am talking about the sleepless nights, tantrums, breaking of my stuff, spending all my money sort of stress. For me, having children has created a vulnerability that I wasn't expecting. I imagine I understood it on an intellectual level but not on a deeper spiritual level. My soul is tied to theirs. There is something beautiful about this but also terrifying. If something were to happen to one of them, then that devastation would happen to my soul as well. I am cognizant of the possibility that I would be left to manage without that important part of my soul. Having children has brought about that consciousness of who I am. I am not free. I am bound, intertwined with the life of individuals who are autonomous, willful, human beings. I can't control what they do, but I am affected by their choices, for good and for… not so good.

To reiterate, I don't think this is what Rabbi Hirsch was talking about when he conjured this phrase, but it's where my heart lies so I share it with you. Although I continue to be an autonomous human being with all the abilities and tools to plot my own way in life, the birth of my children has made me ever so conscious of my moral freedom. Or better yet, my lack of it. My vulnerability has never been higher which leads to me feeling frail and fragile. I wouldn't change it, but I acknowledge it. So, when our sidra begins with the restrictions and ritual impurity of a women following childbirth, it resonates with me. Being a parent has made me keenly aware of the many phases and states that I travel through in my life. Now back to figuring out what Rabbi Hirsch was trying to say.

Shabbat Shalom

A Message from Rabbi Neil Sandler

Posted on by Lauren Dube

A Message from Rabbi Neil Sandler

Pour Out Your Wrath: A Reflection on Ukraine, Borys Romanchenko and Vladimir Putin

By Rabbi Neil Sandler

The Passover seder meal has just concluded. Stomachs are full. We have enjoyed a delicious meal and, possibly the last two years notwithstanding, the company of loved ones and friends who have joined us around the table. It's time to sing some of our favorite Passover songs and bring the seder to its conclusion. First, we must welcome Elijah to our celebration. We open the door for this enigmatic figure and offer words found in the haggadah.

For the last number of years in our family sedarim, we have offered words attributed to a 16th century haggadah manuscript:

Pour out your love on the nations who have known you and on the kingdoms who call upon your name…May they live to see the Sukkah of peace spread over your chosen ones and to participate in the joy of all your nations.

These words are infused with an inclusive, caring spirit that blends well with the sentiments we feel and share following our seder meal. They just seem to fit…but they are not the words that appear in most haggadot at this point in the seder. Instead, we read:

Pour out your fury on the nations that do not know you…Pursue them in wrath and destroy them from under the heavens of Adonai.

I do not like to utter these sentiments. They feel contrary to what my guests and I are feeling at the seder as we near its conclusion. But right now, as I write these words, they sadly and unfortunately resonate for me.

Like you, I think a lot about what is happening in Ukraine today.

In a place where the words "horrific," "tragic" and "unspeakable" have been regularly used to describe death and destruction for the past month, it seems difficult to imagine that any single instance of brutal murder might gain special notice. However, word of the death of Borys Romanchenko in a recent Kharkiv bombing caught my attention as well as the attention of many others both inside and outside the Jewish community. Mr. Romanchenko, age 96, was a Holocaust survivor. He persevered through imprisonment in four concentration camps, including Buchenwald. For several years, Mr. Romanchenko had served on a memorial committee for Buchenwald, a site where the 77th anniversary of its liberation is to be commemorated in less than a month. "Survived Hitler, murdered by Putin," tweeted Ukraine's Foreign Minister, Dmytro Kuleba.

"Survived Hitler, murdered by Putin."

While Vladimir Putin did not directly murder Borys Romanchenko, he is directly responsible for his death. Putin is directly responsible for every Ukrainian who has died in recent weeks and, sadly, will die in future days. He is directly responsible for the deaths of his own soldiers who have died at the hands of Ukrainians who have valiantly defended their land.

Vladimir Putin is not a "nation." Experts can debate the culpability, perhaps indirect, of the Russian people or a segment of it.

But this year, the words "Pour out your wrath…" will resonate in a way they have seldom resonated for me. While I am not certain we will offer them at our seder, we will use their presence in the Haggadah to spark discussion of this moment.

May Elijah, who we welcome to our homes with whatever words we choose to offer, soon arrive to portend the better time and world we seek.

And may the memory of Borys Romanchenko along with other innocent Ukrainians who have perished in recent weeks, be for a blessing that encourages all of us to work toward realizing that better world.

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal – Parshat Tzav

Posted on by Lauren Dube

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

Parshat Tzav
Leviticus 6:1 - 8:36

By Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

The current conversation about God circles around belief. Does a person believe in God? This is where we often begin the conversation. Do you BELIEVE in God? There is nothing wrong about asking that question but it's not a question we often ask regarding to other relationships. I wouldn't start with that question if I were inquiring about your friends and family. Do you believe in your parent or your spouse? If I was to ask such a question, it would probably be an exploration about their honesty or some aspect of their life goals. I wouldn't be using this question to ask about their existence. That would be weird. However, this is where we begin with God.

For the sages and rabbis thousands of years ago, they seemed to be obsessed with a different question. Are you close to God? For the texts and writings that they left behind (i.e. the Torah, Bible, Talmud, etc.) God is assumed. Our Torah doesn't bother to introduce us to the divine being that would be joining us through our spiritual journey. Instead, God just was, and God's speech brought the universe into being.

Throughout the book of Leviticus, we explore the ancient ritual of animal sacrifice along with the rites and rituals which would develop into the service of God that existed in the Jerusalem Temple for roughly 800 years. The Hebrew word that is translated as sacrifice is Korban – קָרְבָּן. Unfortunately, this might be the most poorly translated word in the entire Hebrew Bible. The word, Korban comes from the root which means, "to draw close." The goal of our patriarchs and matriarchs of the Bible and other religious texts wasn't to "make sacrifices" to God, offering some sort of quid pro quo. Instead, the goal of these efforts was to bring God close, creating a relationship where God was present amid the people.

I don't fault the modern mind for seeking answers about God's existence. To my mind, the question about belief in God is still connected to the earlier question about closeness. Today, many of us feel that God is so remote and distant, that we wonder if God is even out there. My suggestion is that we reframe the question away from belief and towards closeness. Are you close to God? The answer might be a resounding no. However, by framing the question on a spectrum of distance rather than absolute categories of Yes or No, we afford ourselves the opportunity to return to the question throughout our life's journey and make assessments about our closeness or distance from God and God's closeness to us.

MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman – Purim 5782

Posted on by Lauren Dube

MaNishma with Rabbi Arnold Goodman

Purim 5782
La'et Kazot - For a Time Such as This

By Rabbi Arnold Goodman

Mordecai… to Esther… 'if you keep silent in this crisis, relief and deliverance will come from another quarter, while you and your father's house will perish; and who knows, perhaps you have attained royal position la'et kazot, for a time such as this…" (Book of Esther 4: 14).

There is a tide in the affairs of men which
taken at the flood,
leads on to fortune,
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and misery
(Julius Caesar, Act IV, Sc 3)

It's the make-or-break moment in the Purim saga. Mordecai has informed Esther of Haman's intention to attack and destroy the entire Jewish community of Persia/Medea. The date had been chosen, and the edict had been transmitted to all corners of the vast 127 nation empire.

Mordecai has now petitioned Esther to intercede with the King to annul the evil decree. Esther responds that she has not been summoned to Ahasureus for over thirty days, and it is common knowledge that approaching the throne without permission is punishable by death. She is understandably reluctant to risk her life. Mordecai bitterly reprimands her, "If you are silent at this moment you and your father's house will also be consumed in this far reaching genocidal action, and who knows but la'et kazot it is for this moment that you have attained the crown." Esther accepts Mordecai's criticism, and she sets into motion the deliverance of her people.

La'et kazot: there are always moments in which we must choose whether to act or to sit on our hands. Ukraine is an unfolding and ever deepening humanitarian crisis; the Russian onslaught continues to fbesiege cities and target civilian centers including hospitals. It is estimated over two million refugees, in large part women and children, have thankfully found shelter in neighboring countries primarily Poland and Romania. In addition to humanitarian aid from the United States and Western Europe, the call has gone out for private funding, and the outpouring of support has been amazing. For people of conscience this is a La'et kazot moment.

In 1900 my maternal grandparents with their two children (one of whom was my mother) emigrated to the United States from Ukraine where Jews eked out a livelihood while constantly aware of latent and overt anti-Semitism. That Ukraine has morphed into the democratic State now headed by its courageous Jewish President, Volodymyr Zelensky.

To paraphrase Mordecai, is it inconceivable that we are blessed with financial capability to have the capacity to respond to difficult humanitarian crises? Local Jewish Federations are among the agencies collecting the much-needed funds, and la'et kazot – may we be equal to the demands of this moment.

—

From the holy city of Jerusalem my fondest wishes for a Shabbat Shalom and a Purim Sameach, a joyous celebration of the wonderful holiday.

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal – Parshat Vayikra

Posted on by Lauren Dube

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

Parshat Vayikra
Leviticus 1:1 - 5:26
Words Aren't Cheap

By Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

וַיִּקְרָא אֶל־מֹשֶׁה וַיְדַבֵּר יְהוָֹה אֵלָיו מֵאֹהֶל מוֹעֵד לֵאמֹר

"And (God) called out to Moses and Adonai spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting" (Leviticus 1:1)

We are starting a new book this week, the book of Vayikra, Leviticus. It begins with an anomaly. In our Chumash (Book containing the five books of Moses), the word Vayikra (the first word of the book) is written with a miniature "aleph." – וַיִּקְרָא

Upon investigation of this unusual scriptural tradition, we can find many answers. Rabbi Sampson Raphael Hirsch suggests that the reduced aleph is a reminder of humbleness. Since there isn't a specific commandment in the Torah mandating humbleness, this notation reminds us of the importance of a humble spiritual posture if we, like Moses, seek attention from God.

The Rambam puts the word, Vayikra, (meaning: to call out) into the context of the story. Unlike previous conversations with God, where Moses was Panim el Panim (face to face) with God, now the Mishkan (tabernacle) is complete, and God called from within this sacred space. Since it was already specified that Aaron, the High Priest, would be the only person allowed in the Holy of Holies, the innermost sanctum, God had to call out and project God's voice a distance so Moses could hear. By itself, this doesn't explain the miniature aleph. However, Rambam concludes his commentary by saying:

The explanation of the verse according to its plain meaning and sense is: "and the Eternal called unto Moses and spoke unto him, out of the Tent of Meeting." By way of the Truth, [the mystic teachings of the Kabbalah], this verse is like, And unto Moses He said: 'Come up unto the Eternal' (Exodus 24:1). Its secret is known from the Revelation on Mount Sinai and the Ten Commandments. I have alluded to it already.

The Ten Commandments begin with "Anochi" which begins with the letter aleph. Maybe the small Aleph is suggesting that the first thing that God spoke from God's new abode amongst the people was the Ten Commandments.

This small Aleph invites us to read the word with or without this important first letter of the Hebrew Alphabet. With the Aleph, the work means, as it is being translated, "And God called out to him (Moses). Without the Aleph, there are several ways to interpret the word. Rashi reads this word as Karah – קרה with a 'Hey' rather than an 'Aleph' changing the meaning from 'called out,' to 'it happened/it occurred.' For Rashi, the difference between the two words connotes an active versus a passive interaction; a formal versus a casual conversation.

Another way of reading this word without the Aleph is to add the 'Yud', first letter of the word "Yikra," into the root of the word rather than seeing it as a function of the verb conjugation. Read with the 'Yud,' the word now means 'precious, valuable, expensive.' This holds an important lesson for me about the use of words in our society. There is an expression, "Words are cheap." Unfortunately, this negative sentiment seems more true today than at any other time. Yes, our tradition knows how important words are. The universe was created with words. God's revelation was collected and carried with words. God shared God's will and hope for the world with words. As we start the book of Leviticus and begin to explore the holiness that our ancestors sought throughout this book, we should strive to reclaim the holiness and sacredness of words–both the words we share with others and the words we say about ourselves.

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal – Parshat Tetzaveh

Posted on by Lauren Dube

Torah Commentary with Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

Parshat Tetzaveh - Don't Burn the Candle at Both Ends
Exodus 27:20 - 30:10; Ezekiel 43:10 - 27

By Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

כָּתִית לַמָּאוֹר לְהַעֲלֹת נֵר תָּמִיד:

You shall further instruct the Israelites to bring you clear oil of beaten olives for lighting, for kindling lamps regularly (Exodus 27:20).

This commandment which begins this week's sidra is interestingly positioned. Coming directly after the collection of the material needs for the Mishkan, mobile sanctuary, and followed by the textiles needed gathered for the priestly garments, the manufacturing of oil and lighting the menorah seems a bit out of place. Interestingly, the commandment at hand doesn't deal with the construction of the menorah but instead focuses on the oil used for kindling the lights, the consumables for this important spiritual undertaking. Whereas the mishkan and priestly clothing will last for a while, especially if cared for, the oil is meant to be burn away and therefore, the instruction for pressing and collecting the oil is an ongoing endeavor, continually being managed and monitored to ensure oil for the spiritual work to be done. This reminds me of the Hanukah story which relates a situation where oil isn't available. Amid a discussion about collecting metals and fabrics and crafting them into vessels and clothing, what message are we to derive from a description about pressing oil? Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch helps to illuminate the meaning (pun intended). He writes

Although the oil and the curtains are not among the constituent material of the Sanctuary, but, rather, belong to the category of materials needed for the Avodah (service) in the Sanctuary, nevertheless, together they give expression to the whole aim of a person's refinement, for the sake of which the mikdash (Holy Temple) is to be erected: Enlightenment of the spirit and perfection of deeds so that they are pleasing before God.

For me, the creation of the Mishkan and holy garments are metaphoric for the spiritual spaces and garments we must create as part of our spiritual journey. Creating the space and the garments of a spiritual, moral and ethical life is something in which many of us participate. However, are we being mindful about the fuel that is needed to ignite our passions and allow us to provide for others and ourselves? We have terms that we use in English which speak to these diminishing reserves like what our Torah begins this week – burning the candle at both ends; running too hot; etc. A life lived spiritually, morally, and ethically is lived as a marathon, not a sprint. Our Parsha's opening with just two pasukim (sentences) focused on the oil to be used for the Menorah is a reminder about the need for constant creation and regeneration of the fuel that lights our fire. Do we know where that fuel comes from? Are we allocating time to cultivate, nurture and tend to our own 'oil' production? Our Jewish practice offers rituals, seasons, gatherings, and actions that are regenerative. Are we celebrating Shabbat and allowing for spiritual and physical rest? Are we utilizing prayer, holidays, and community to uplift and embolden us? Are we carving out time in our schedule for spiritual study of our sacred scriptures to help inspire and guide our lives? The Torah offers us a gentle reminder that although oil grows on trees, if we aren't taking stock of our reserves, we might end up burning out.